And I Got Everything To Lose
by flowerrrs25
Summary: Ross is a fallen star. Laura has always been good at picking up the pieces. Raura. One-shot.


Disclaimer: I don't own _Austin and Ally_ or Ross or Laura.

A/N: This is weird.

* * *

_More concerning news tonight about popular singer and actor Ross Lynch. Having become a household name for his captivating stage presence and seemingly never ending energy, this now fallen star is all anyone can talk about these days. We'll get into the details about the latest trouble he's gotten into after the commercial break._

She sighs and turns off the television. She doesn't need to see any more. She's used to it after the last year of story after story after story.

_Ross Lynch is taken to detox after getting into a bar fight._

_Ross Lynch is escorted by security off the set of his latest movie after punching his co-star._

_Ross Lynch is arrested for driving under the influence._

_Ross Lynch suspected of cocaine addiction. _(That one, she seriously doubts.)

_Ross Lynch quits his band to pursue a solo career. _(That one, she knows is a lie. He hadn't quit. He had been kicked out.)

"What are you doing, Ross?" she whispers into the empty room, staring blankly at the wall in front of her.

She waits for the inevitable phone call. Three, four, five minutes pass until, like clockwork, her phone rings.

"Did you see?" a tired voice on the other end asks.

"Hi, Rydel," she answers. "I didn't see what he actually did this time. How bad?"

"Punched two paparazzi. Broke one of their noses."

"What's going to happen to him?"

"Nothing. They're not pressing charges. His label paid them off, I'm guessing."

She pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. "How did this happen, Rydel?"

There's a long silence. "Do you…do you think he's still in there? My little brother? Your best friend?"

She swallows the lump in her throat. "I wish I could just say no. Then we could be done. But I can't stop hoping that there is."

Another pause. "You know, I always thought it'd be you, Laura."

She squeezes her eyes shut. "Me too," she whispers. "Me too."

* * *

A month passes without incident and she starts heading into the dangerous territory of believing he might be getting better.

She's in a good mood, after having spent the day recording for her second album, and she stops off on her way home to grab a cup of tea.

There's a TV on inside but she doesn't pay attention to what's happening as she places her order, smiling at the barista when she's asked for her autograph.

She's just about to leave when she hears his name.

_Ross Lynch was just dropped from his record label, sources say. The troubled singer, having not had any major hits after going solo, has become too risky and word has it that his contract was dissolved just a few hours ago. We're waiting for an official statement from his management, but it looks like his summer tour, slated to start in just a few weeks, will be cancelled. _

She stares at the TV unblinkingly until someone brushes past her, making her spill hot tea on her hand. "Crap," she mutters, reaching for a stack of napkins. She dries off her hand and then practically rushes out of the door to her car.

She gets home in record time and immediately reaches for her phone as it rings.

"I just saw," she answers breathlessly. "What's going to happen?"

"He's going to get drunk and probably arrested tonight, is what's going to happen."

She hesitates for a moment before making up her mind. "Rydel, I'm going to go over there."

"What? Absolutely not." She sounds angry at the very idea.

"I can't do this anymore. Everything is gone. Everyone is gone. He has nothing left. No one left."

"That's his own fault, Laura."

"Is it?" she asks pointedly. "He asked for help in the beginning. He told you guys the pressure was getting to him. Riker brushed him off. Over and over and over again, until he snapped."

"Laura—"

"I know you tried, Rydel. Out of everyone, you probably tried the hardest. But I can't sit here and let him do this to himself anymore."

There's a pause. "He doesn't deserve you, Laura, you know that, right?"

She smiles, a small sad smile. "You know, some people used to say the same thing about me."

* * *

She drives to his beach house, where she suspects he'll be. She knows he hides out there when he doesn't want to be found since the paparazzi don't know about it yet. Sure enough, his car is in the driveway. She parks behind it and sits there for a few minutes, trying to gather her courage.

She hasn't seen him in a little over a year. She thinks back to the last time they spoke.

They'd been having dinner, catching up after he had come back from touring Asia with the band. They'd never lost touch after the show had ended and tried to see each other every couple of months, at the very least.

He hadn't been himself. He'd complained about feeling overworked. How their label was putting pressure on them to start another album even though they'd just gotten back from tour a couple of days ago, how his agent had lined up five auditions over the next three days for starring roles in big budget films, how he was being pushed into being a spokesperson for a bunch of charities that he didn't know enough to care about, how he hadn't felt _happy_ in a long time. She had been worried, but not overly so because it was _Ross_ and he'd always been a hard worker. She had hugged him tightly when she left but figured it was a one-time thing, compounded by jet lag and missing home.

The next night, he'd been kicked out of a bar for punching a security guard.

She had called him as soon as she heard, frantic with worry.

He hadn't answered that call. Or the ten after that. Or the fifty after that. Or the hundred after that.

He was unreachable.

They had kicked him out of the band two months after that incident. He'd been offered a solo contract two hours later.

She's an optimistic person, but there was only so much she could take.

She stopped calling.

* * *

She wipes her hands on her pants as she waits for him to answer the door. She's trembling slightly in anticipation so she clenches her fists at her sides and squares her shoulders, trying to prepare herself.

She tenses as she hears footsteps approaching. She swallows as the door opens and her eyes widen as they meet his.

He stares at her blankly, his eyes a little glassy, and she quickly realizes that he's drunk. She takes a breath and forces herself not to recoil at the stench of liquor emanating off his body.

"Can I come in?" she asks quietly.

He stares at her some more. "Why are you here?"

"Let me in, Ross."

He wordlessly turns around and walks into the house and she quickly follows after him, shutting the door behind her.

All the blinds are shut and none of the lights are on. The place looks like a hurricane hit it. There are bottles all over the place, food containers strewn everywhere, and he's in the eye of the storm.

He sits in the middle of the couch in the living room, beer in hand, and takes a long sip.

"You want one?" he asks, holding up a six pack. Six pack minus three, that is.

What the hell.

"Sure," she says. She walks around to him, takes a bottle and sits down next to him, her shoulder pressed tightly against his.

They both sip silently for a few minutes. He opens another one. She doesn't stop him.

"How's my mom?" he asks suddenly.

She almost drops the bottle.

"Not great," she answers honestly.

He nods and takes another sip.

"How's recording going?"

She frowns. "How do you know about that?"

He smiles at the bottle in his hand. "TMZ follows you around too, you know."

The knowledge that he had been keeping tabs on her is enough for her to take the bottle out of his hand. She sets both his and hers on the floor.

He doesn't protest.

"Do you remember when we went to Australia?" he asks, closing his eyes.

"Of course," she replies softly.

"Rauraustralia."

He laughs.

She doesn't.

He opens his eyes and looks at her. His eyes are a bit clearer now.

"That's when I started wanting you. Like, for real wanting you."

She shakes her head. "I'm not here to talk about us."

He sighs. "What are you here for, Laura?"

"When are you going to be done?" she asks, her voice taking on an edge. "When are you going to take your head out of your ass and realize that you're hurting everyone who loves you? This isn't you."

He rolls his eyes. "It's me now. Take it or leave it."

She sees red, angered by his indifference to her. She stands up and faces him. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she yells. "What did I ever do to you? Why are you doing this to yourself?"

He stands up too, towering over here, but she doesn't back down. "I got fucking tired of people telling me what to do every fucking second of every fucking day!" he yells. "It wasn't my life, it wasn't what I wanted! The music turned to shit. And every audition I went to, do you know what they asked me to do? They asked me to take off my fucking shirt. It was a fucking joke! I was a fucking joke!"

"Then why didn't you do something about it?" she shouts. "The Ross I knew wouldn't have settled for anything less than what he wanted! You're the most hardworking and ambitious person I've ever known in my entire life!"

"Because I was fucking _tired_," he roars. "Do you understand that? The goddamn Disney cloud never left. I couldn't do _anything _without being shit on for it. So I did what I fucking wanted. I got drunk and I punched a guy in the face and it felt so good that I did it again. And again."

She's quiet for a long moment. There are tears streaming down her face. She doesn't notice.

He does.

"Does it feel good now?" she whispers. "Does this really feel _good_?"

He stares at her. She stares back, her eyes never leaving his.

She flinches when he brings up his hand to gently wipe her tears away. "Laura," he whispers.

She closes her eyes when he cups her cheek. "I miss you so much, Ross," she whimpers. "I just want you to come back."

"But you're never sad," he mumbles. "I've never seen you cry."

"You make me sad. You make me really, really sad."

And for a split second, it's like he never left when he embraces her, his face buried in her neck and his arms tight around her waist. Only now he smells like beer and garbage and stale pizza instead of springtime and soap and her favorite scent in the entire world. She almost gags as she pushes her hands against his chest to make him step back.

He looks at her despondently, and she knows he's wondering why she reacted like that to his arms around her.

"I will never give up on you," she says softly.

He swallows and looks away.

"You should."

She watches him for a moment; she's mourning the loss of the bright-eyed, slightly cocky, goofy, talented, oh so talented boy she had fallen in love with all those years ago. So she steps forward and buries her face in his chest, feeling his chin against the top of her head as he hesitantly brings his arms up around her.

She holds her breath this time.

* * *

She decides to stay on his couch after spending hours cleaning the place. He doesn't help her do it, he just watches her silently as she opens the windows, picks up the bottles, and scrubs every inch of the house with her bare hands.

It's past midnight when she finishes, and he'd already retreated to his bedroom an hour ago. She sighs as she collapses on the sofa, completely exhausted, and then realizes she doesn't have a pillow or blankets or anything other than her jeans to sleep in.

She groans, before forcing herself to get up and go into his bedroom. She knocks and opens the door without waiting for a response, figuring he'd be asleep and she could just go into the closet to get what she needed.

But he's awake, shirtless, and sitting on his bed with his laptop open. She freezes when he looks up at her.

"What are you doing?" she asks. "You should sleep."

The corner of his mouth tilts up. "I'm watching us."

"What?"

"Austin and Ally."

Her heart starts pounding. "Why?"

He shrugs. "Just thinking about the good old days, when I wasn't a total piece of shit."

She doesn't know what to say. She changes the subject. "Do you have extra pillows and a shirt I can wear to sleep in?"

He looks surprised. "You're staying?"

She nods. "I'm too tired to drive home."

He shrugs and turns back to the computer. "Shirt yeah, you can look for the rest, I don't know."

She takes a breath and walks into the closet and finds what she needs. She grabs a shirt of his and a pair of his boxers and she quickly changes before walking back out.

"I'm going to bed," she announces.

He looks up at her and she sees his eyes widen as he takes in what she's wearing. He exhales. "Shit," he mutters.

She walks out of the room.

* * *

It's four am when he wakes her up.

He's sitting on the floor, his side against the front of the couch, and his hand is on her shoulder.

"What is it?" she mumbles sleepily.

"Are you in love with me?" he asks, like he's asking about the weather or what she had for breakfast.

Her eyes shoot open and she stares at him in disbelief.

He looks back at her, his own eyes dark, and in them, she swears she sees a flash of the Ross she used to know.

She swallows. "Are you in love with _me_?"

"Yes," he answers, without skipping a beat.

She takes a breath. In, out.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?"

He closes his eyes. "I don't know."

She turns on her side and scoots back on the couch, lifting the blanket for him. He hesitates for a second but then he's curling up next to her, on his side, facing her.

"You showered," she observes. "And shaved, and brushed your teeth. Did you sleep?"

He shakes his head. "I don't really sleep much these days."

She places a hand on his bare chest and pushes him down onto his back before laying her head on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around her waist.

"Sleep," she whispers. "You need to sleep."

His breathing evens out and his arm around her relaxes as he finally falls asleep, forty-five minutes later.

She stays awake until he does.

* * *

When she wakes up the next morning, he's already awake. He's staring at the ceiling, his fingers tangled in her hair, one of her legs between his, and she can't help but wish that the circumstances were different, that she could wake up like this every day.

"Good morning," she rasps out, and then clears her throat.

He looks down at her, a little startled, and gives her a small smile. "Morning."

"What time is it?"

"Nine thirty," he answers.

"How long have you been awake?"

He shrugs. "Not very long. I haven't slept that well in over a year."

She settles her head back down on his shoulder and runs her fingertips up his other arm and across his abs, tracing lightly over the key necklace resting on his chest.

"Did you do any drugs?" she asks softly.

He stiffens underneath her, but she just continues to rub soft circles into his skin. "Coke. Twice. A bunch of weed. But it was mostly just alcohol."

"I knew that one wasn't true," she replies, her voice distant. "So what do you want now?"

He inhales sharply. "Can't this wait?"

"I want you to tell me the first thing that comes to your mind."

He hesitates. "I want…I want to stop. I want…I want this. You."

She lifts her head and looks at him. "Then stop," she says simply.

He laughs bitterly. "You say that like it's so easy."

She shrugs. "What makes it hard? You don't have anything pressuring you anymore. You don't have your siblings. You don't have your label."

He turns his head away. "What the fuck, Laura?"

"Isn't this what you wanted, Ross? You wanted to be alone. You wanted to be free. You wanted to do whatever the hell you wanted."

"Shut up," he grits out.

Everything she says is breaking her own heart, word by word, but she knows he needs to hear this. He needs to hit rock bottom before he can climb back up and she knows he's close.

She cups his cheek, turning his head so he's forced to look at her.

"You got kicked out of your band. You got kicked out of your _family_. You haven't had a hit song this entire year. Your last movie flopped."

His breathing becomes heavy and she can see that he's getting agitated, his brow furrowed and his face reddening. She continues.

"You have a _mugshot_. You've been blowing all your money on parties and alcohol. You've never been in a real relationship. You don't have any real friends. You don't have anything."

"Shut up!" he yells, squeezing his eyes shut. "Just shut the fuck up!"

Last one. The kill shot. She takes a breath.

"And you don't have me."

He lets out a choked sound that's between a sob and a wail and she feels like her heart is being ripped apart as his body trembles beneath her own.

She's never seen him cry and thinks absently to herself that she never wants to see him cry ever again as he completely breaks down underneath her. She shifts her body upward and cradles his head against her chest, stroking his hair softly as he loses it. His hands clutch the back of her shirt tightly as he sobs, every sound escaping from his mouth bringing tears to her own eyes.

"What—what the fuck did I do, Laura?" he gasps repeatedly between sobs. "What the fuck did I do?"

"Shhh," she murmurs, over and over again. "It's okay, Ross. You're going to be okay."

Eventually, he stops, his face still buried in her chest and his arms wrapped tightly around her. She leans back a little, and takes his head between her hands.

His face is wet, his eyes are red, but he looks more like himself than she's seen the entire time she's been there. He watches her with wide, vulnerable eyes, and she can't help herself when she rocks forward and softly presses her lips to his.

The kiss lasts barely even a second, but it makes her feel a flood of emotions that she hadn't been fully prepared for.

They stare at each other for a moment, until she finally looks away.

"I needed to hear all of that, didn't I?" he says softly.

"That depends," she replies gently. "Did it work?"

He closes his eyes. "Will I ever have you?" he whispers brokenly.

She gives him a sad smile. "You're acting like you haven't always had me."

His eyes shoot open at her admission. "I don't deserve you. I don't even come close to deserving you."

"You probably don't," she teases.

She breathes a laugh at the expression on his face, a mixture of shock and surprise, as he was clearly not expecting that response.

"I—"

"I'm kidding," she interrupts, the corner of her mouth tilting up.

"I'm not," he replies seriously, his voice strained. "You deserve a guy who'll always be there. A guy who's smart and sweet and nice and not a fucking trainwreck. Maybe that could've been me. But it's not anymore."

"Why is everyone so obsessed over what I deserve?" she grumbles. "What about what I _want_?"

"You shouldn't want me," he mutters, turning his head away again. "No one should."

She scoffs. "I never thought I'd say this, but I miss your ego."

"But—"

"Look, Ross, this is how I see it," she interrupts, and he turns his head to look at her. "There's no reason to waste time feeling sorry for yourself. You messed up. You know it, I know it, everyone knows it. You can either wallow in it or you can pick yourself up. Your confidence might have been what got you into this, but it's also what will get you out."

"So you want me to turn into a cocky little shit again?" he asks, clearly amused.

She grins. "That's better than this idiotic _huge_ piece of shit you've been lately," she replies, wrinkling her nose.

She hears him laugh genuinely for the first time in over a year and she can't help but laugh herself.

"Do you think they'll ever forgive me?" he asks quietly, when they stop grinning at each other.

He's talking about his family. She doesn't even have to think about it.

"Yes," she answers.

* * *

Exactly one month later, she finds herself getting ready for their first date.

The last month had been rough, but he had gotten through it in one piece. The press had been unrelentingly harsh, doubtful of his recovery. A troubled celebrity was always a better news story than a stable one, after all.

His family hadn't exactly welcomed him back with open arms. He hadn't expected them to, but his broken relationships were slowly beginning to repair themselves. They were recovering. He had even gone to his first band rehearsal today, strictly on a trial basis.

He was more or less back to his old self when he was with her. There were moments where she'd see him retreat into himself, moments when his eyes would flash with an unpleasant memory of something in the year they'd been apart, moments when she'd worry that he was falling again. But they were just moments.

She knows everyone thinks she forgave him way too quickly. He thinks she forgave him too quickly. But she's never been the kind of person to dwell on things or linger in the past. She's always been positive and optimistic and happy and she knows it's what he needed from her. Balance. They've always been about balance. He is the Austin to her Ally, after all.

She's startled out of her reverie when the doorbell rings.

She opens the door to find him messy haired and smiling, dressed in dark jeans and a plaid shirt, a single white daisy in his hand. "Hi, Laura," he says, and holds out the flower to her.

She melts.

"Hey, Ross," she says, trying to sound nonchalant but totally failing as she takes the flower from him. He smirks at her knowingly and she blushes. "Shut up," she says, rolling her eyes.

"I didn't even say anything!" he exclaims.

She narrows her eyes. "You didn't have to," she says, twirling the flower in her hand. "Wait here for a sec, I'll go put this in some water?"

He nods, shoving his hands in his pockets.

She comes back a minute later to find him where she left him. "Are you ready for the best date ever?" he asks, grinning.

She's suddenly overwhelmed by how familiar it all is, how normal he's acting, how relaxed he seems. The smile on his face is contagious, he looks absolutely gorgeous, and he's radiating happiness.

Her chest aches for this boy standing in front of her, this boy that she grew up with, this boy that she shared some of the most important moments of her life with, this boy that she _loves_. And she can't wait a second longer to tell him. To show him.

"I'm in love with you," she says softly, and his eyes widen. "You asked me that day, remember? If I was in love with you. That's my answer."

He looks at her in a way that makes her feel as if her knees are about to give out. Another second passes and they do give out. He catches her firmly by the waist and she wraps her arms around his neck, leaning back so she can look at him.

"I still don't deserve you," he whispers.

"You still need to shut up," she whispers back, and then she pulls down his head to kiss him.

He's hesitant but she's not and she starts to pull back, worried at his lack of response, but then he splays his hand across her back and presses her against him and kisses her so hard her knees give out again. He holds her up as his other arm tightens around her waist and her hands are in his hair and she is completely unaware of anything except him.

They separate after a minute, both of them out of breath, a dazed expression on his face.

"Dude, what happens at the _end_ of a date with you?"

She kisses him again.

* * *

Sooo this was very different, I know, and for the record, I REALLY don't think Ross will turn out anything like this, but I couldn't get the idea out of my head. So tell me if you liked it, if you hated it, whatever. Thank you for reading!


End file.
